by Lynn Lorenz
“Do too. It’s cute.” Sammi peeked at him from under his bangs.
“I do not snore ‘cute’.” Mitchell acted as if he’d been insulted.
“Do too.”
“Do not. What did you do after that?”
“I fixed breakfast and used your washer and dryer. My clothes were beginning to smell.” He wrinkled his nose. “They’re in the dryer. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” Mitchell reached for Sammi. “Come here, babe.”
Sammi slid into his arms. They kissed. Sammi tasted of bacon, with an underlying sweetness. Mitchell’s cock stiffened against his thigh. He broke the kiss and sat back.
“I have to go to work. In fact, if I don’t get going, I’ll be late.”
“Can’t you stay home?” Sammi pouted, his bottom lip pushed out, begging for Mitchell to give it a quick nip.
Mitchell gave in and nibbled it, then pulled back. “No, not today. I have to do the monthly production reports.”
Sammi took another piece of bacon. “What do you do?”
“I work for a small oil company downtown. I’m in the commercial division, and we handle all the produced oil and gas, estimate how much and what it costs.”
“Sounds like a good job. Lots of numbers?” Sammi made a face.
“Yeah, lots of numbers.”
“Did you go to college?” Sammi looked almost wistful.
“I have a degree in Business Administration from the University of Texas at Austin.”
“Wow. You must be very smart.” Sammi stared at Mitchell’s leg as he petted it.
“No, just persistent.” Mitchell shrugged. “Look, I don’t care if you didn’t go to college, babe.”
“I never finished high school.” From under his mop of bangs, Sammi’s gaze caught Mitchell’s, seeking reassurance.
“I told you, I don’t care. What happened? Do you want to tell me?”
Sammi shrugged. “I was in foster care. Moved around a lot. I ran away when I was sixteen and I’ve been on my own since then.”
“Sounds like a rough time.” Mitchell reached out and cupped Sammi’s chin. “No more rough times, babe.”
Sammi smiled and his face lit up. He leaned in to kiss Mitchell. Soft, full lips pillowed Mitchell’s mouth. Damn, he wanted Sammi, but there was work.
“I have to go.” Mitchell sighed against Sammi’s kiss.
“I know.”
Mitchell rose out of bed and padded to the bathroom. “Listen, I have extra toothbrushes and stuff. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Sammi crawled back into the bed as Mitchell started the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Mitchell came out of the bathroom, clean and shaved, and began to dress.
“You want to help me pick out something?” Mitchell stood in the walk-in closet and pointed to his clothing.
Sammi’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “I’m not good at that.”
Mitchell shrugged. He slipped on a pair of charcoal grey dress slacks and a soft grey dress shirt.
“Which tie?” He held up two ties for Sammi to pick out.
“The blue one.” Sammi pointed to the left one.
“Blue it is.” Mitchell tossed the loser back into the closet and placed the winning tie over his head. Coming back into the room, he began to tie it.
“Let me.” Sammi got out of bed and came to him. He concentrated on knotting the tie, then adjusted it and stepped back. “You look handsome.”
Mitchell laughed. “Glad you think so. I have to dress up every day, but I’d rather wear jeans.” He slipped on his shoes and headed to the door.
Okay, here was the part he hated. Mitchell didn’t want Sammi to leave this morning, maybe not ever. But should he ask him to stay, just expect him to be here at the end of the day or tell him he was free to go? It hadn’t sounded as if Sammi had anywhere to go.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Sammi answered his unspoken question.
“Good.” Mitchell stood with his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll return at six.”
“If someone phones, should I answer it?” Sammi ran his hand over Mitchell’s tie, straightening it.
“Sure. Just take a message or tell them to call back after six.”
“What should I say if they ask who I am?” Sammi’s questioning dark eyes locked with his.
Mitchell slipped his hand around Sammi’s neck, tilted his head up, and ran his thumb along Sammi’s jaw. “Tell them you’re my lover and that you’re staying with me.” Mitchell took Sammi’s mouth in a heated kiss. Sammi’s body melted against him, and his purr of pleasure rumbled through Mitchell’s body.
They balanced on the verge of igniting, and if that happened Mitchell was going to fuck Sammi right there against the wall. His cock stiffened as he pulled Sammi to him with his other hand.
“God, I want you.” He growled against Sammi’s hair. “Fuck work.”
“No, go. You need to. Go.” Sammi pushed away and opened the door.
Mitchell grinned and gave Sammi’s firm ass a gentle slap on his way out. “I’ll call you later. Make yourself at home, babe.”
“Okay.”
* * * *
Mitchell rubbed his eyes and refocused on the spreadsheet. He’d arrived thirty minutes late, and as he’d walked to his cube, James White, his boss, had noted it with a raised eyebrow. Mitchell was convinced White suspected Mitchell was gay. Despite all the corporation’s stands on diversity, Mitchell believed James was homophobic.
Mitchell didn’t have to explain anything, and he didn’t intend on doing so. His private life was just that, private. The rules about supervisors asking about an employee’s sexual orientation were clear it was none of anyone’s business and no decisions should factor it in.
James didn’t ask, and Mitchell didn’t tell.
The rest of the day dragged past and now, a few hours after lunch, Mitchell needed a break. He slipped on his hands-free headset and dialed home. He’d fought his urge to call Sammi all morning, telling himself to chill, take it slow, although slow could never be used to describe what had happened between them last night.
“Hello.” Sammi’s sexy voice shot through Mitchell like an arrow.
“Hi, babe.” Mitchell dipped his voice soft and low. Cubicles offered little privacy and he did not intend to let James or anyone else know about his private life.
“I miss you,” Sammi said, a sexy pout in his voice.
“Me, too.”
“What are you doing?”
“Working on a spreadsheet.”
“Numbers?”
“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Numbers. What are you doing?”
“Right now, I’m sitting in your recliner.” Sammi’s voice dropped lower. “I can smell your scent, Mitchell. It’s so strong here. Delicious.”
“Really?”
“Um-hmm. I’m still wearing your black briefs, but they’re very tight.”
“How come?” Mitchell licked his lips and hoped Sammi would tell him in detail.
“Because my cock is hard as a rock, just talking to you.”
“Take them off.” Mitchell heard a rustling, and waited for Sammi to speak.
“They’re gone. It’s just my skin against your leather chair. Feels fantastic. Cool on my ass at first, but it’s warming up.”
“Yeah. I can’t talk much, you know.”
“That’s okay. I’ll talk, you listen.”
“Okay.” Mitchell’s cock grew into a long, thick rod that throbbed and strained against his pants.
“I’m cupping my balls. You like them, I can tell. So smooth and firm.”
Mitchell made a small noise in his throat.
“Would you let me make yours just as smooth?”
“How do you do that?”
“Hot wax. First, I would spread your legs wide and trim your pubes short, like mine. While the wax was warming, I’d suck your balls to make them tight and firm. That helps. Then, when the wax is
just right, I’d brush it on with my fingers.”
Mitchell dropped his hand to his lap under the desk and rubbed against his cock. The thought of Sammi sucking him then applying the wax with his fingers only made him harder.
“I’d place the sheets over them and then…rrriipp. I’d do that until they were smooth as silk. You want that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Mitchell’s hand kept a steady rhythm as it rubbed along his shaft. Damn, he wanted to hurt, to feel just that right amount of pain mixed with pleasure. It was something he hadn’t shared with any of his former lovers. It took a lot of trust to allow someone to hurt you just right and he’d never trusted the others enough.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Mitchell might never understand how Sammi knew him, what he was thinking, or what he liked—he only knew he’d never had a lover like him. Mitchell couldn’t imagine anyone else even coming close to Sammi.
“So fucking bad you think you’re going to cry. But, so good, you know, Mitch? Will you let me hurt you, just a little? I know you want me to.”
“Yeah, I want you to.” Mitchell shuttered his eyes just thinking about it.
“Then, to soothe your aching balls, I’m going to massage oil into them with my tongue. My finger is going to rub the skin beneath your balls, moving closer to your back door.” Sammi sighed.
“Mmm.” Mitchell tried to control his breathing, but his heart was beating hard.
“Unbuckle your pants. I want you to touch yourself.”
“I’m not sure that would be wise.” If anyone caught him, goodbye job.
“Can anyone see you?”
“Not unless they come into my cube.”
“Then do it. Are you behind a desk?”
“Yeah.” Why was he even considering this? More insanity. He’d lost his fucking mind over this man.
“Do it,” Sammi urged. “For me.”
Mitchell slipped his belt open, popped the button on his pants, then eased his zipper down just enough for his fingers to touch the head of his cock. “Okay.”
“Good. So, my finger is rubbing you, and I move it lower, circling your hole. I can feel where it’s all puckered and tight, so I press harder, making you ache for it. You ache for it, don’t you?” Sammi’s breathing huffed through the phone.
“Yeah.” Mitchell ran his fingers along the ridge of his swollen cock head, rough friction against it making his balls tighten. Just doing this, the taboo of being in his cubicle, was enough to set him off.
“Then, I’m going to slip my finger inside you. Plunge it in, no lube. Just my finger reaming your ass.” Sammi gasped. “I’m going to rub your sweet spot until you explode.”
Mitchell swallowed his groan but couldn’t stop the shudder that shot through him. He wanted to know if Sammi was touching himself. “What are you doing?”
“I’m stroking my cock, hard and fast. I’m using a little lube, you know, so it glides, but I still get a little skin-on-skin friction. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know. That’s good.”
“My balls are tight and I’m almost ready to pop.”
“What are you doing?”
“Squeezing them, pulling them up so I can reach the skin under them. What are you doing now?”
“Rubbing the head.”
“I wish I were there, kneeling between your legs, tucked under your desk.”
“What would you do?”
“Oh, I’d suck you until you came. You’d come so hard you’d have to bite a pencil to keep from screaming.”
Mitchell groaned soft and low. “I can’t stand this.”
“Then come. Come for me, for your Sammi.”
Mitchell squeezed his hand and his zipper slid farther down. He pushed his hips forward to give himself room and a better grip on his dick He jerked open a drawer, pulled out a napkin to shoot into, and like a piston, kept pumping with one hand.
“Are you coming?” Sammi asked breathlessly. “I’m almost there, Mitch.”
“Yeah.” Mitchell closed his eyes, lost in the vision of Sammi stretched naked on the leather recliner, stroking himself, his glorious cock full and blood engorged, just ripe and ready to explode.
“Oh, God, Mitch. You make me cream like a bitch. Here it comes. Oh baby, yes I’m coming for you Mitch…fuck, here it… Oh God.” Sammi’s cry sounded strangled as he came.
Mitchell came right after Sammi’s last gasp. Clamping his lips shut, Mitchell shot his load into the napkin. Shudders ran through his body as each wave of pleasure crashed over him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Mitchell’s eyes flew open and he twisted his head around, but he knew that voice. James stood behind him, legs planted wide apart, hands on hips, and his face in a grimace of disgust.
Fuck, how was he going to get out of this? Maybe James hadn’t known what was going on.
Mitchell pushed his cock down and out of sight as rolled closer to the desk. “Nothing.”
James placed his arms on the back of Mitchell’s chair and leaned over to speak in Mitchell’s ear. “See me in my office as soon as you’ve zipped up.” Then, he was gone.
“Mitch? Who was that?” Sammi’s voice wavered.
“My boss. Got to go.” He hung up.
Crap, this was it. James would fire him, no doubt about that. Son of a bitch. How fucking stupid had that been? He’d lost his mind doing that stunt. Ten years into the company and his career had just slid down the toilet, slick as shit.
Maybe he could do some damage control.
Maybe James would understand about a new lover. He was a man, after all.
Maybe monkeys could fly out his ass.
Mitchell arranged himself, zipped up, and rolled his chair back. Then he removed his headset, stood and went to face his fate.
“Close the door and sit down, Mitchell.” James motioned to the chair in front of his desk.
Mitchell sat and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He waited for James to talk first—no point in jumping in until he saw how it would go down.
James leaned back in his large leather executive chair and stared at Mitchell. His blue eyes glinted in what Mitchell could only guess was anticipation of the kill. The silence stretched as each man waited for the other to speak.
James broke first. “Just what did you think you were doing, jerking off in your cube?”
“I know. It was incredibly stupid.”
“What was going through your head?
“Obviously not much.” Mitchell grimaced. “Truthfully, I have this hot, new lover and…” Mitchell shrugged. “You remember how it was.” James was married, with kids.
“Yes, I do. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse what you did. What if one of the women in the department had come by and seen that?”
“I know.” His only recourse was to be contrite and throw himself at James’s mercy. “I’m very sorry. It was stupid. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t. I’m going to have to send this on to H.R., Mitchell. Because of what you are, this has to be handled through proper channels. If it were up to me, I’d fire you right now.”
“What do you mean, ‘what I am’?” Mitchell’s hackles rose. He knew just where James was going with this, and it wouldn’t be good.
“Mitchell, let’s be honest. I’ve suspected for some time you were gay. All the signs were there.”
“Suspected? All the signs?” Was it a crime? Did James have gaydar?
“No wife, no girlfriends, no pictures on your desk.” James shrugged as if that was enough to convict.
“There are lots of unmarried men in this department. What does that have to do with anything? And even if I were gay, it’s no one’s business. That’s the company policy.” Thank God, most major corporations were heavy into diversity and inclusion. Still, that wouldn’t dismiss what he’d done, gay or not, and Mitchell knew it.
“And it’s because of company policy that I’m giving you a break. I’m going to let
H.R. handle this. But, for now, why don’t you take the rest of the day off. When you come in tomorrow, we’ll see what they have to say about it. If you’re lucky, it will just go down in your file and not lead to a dismissal.”
“Right. Thanks, James.” Mitchell stood. James had cut him more slack than he’d expected.
Mitchell left the office and returned to his cubicle. He saved his worksheet, shut down his computer and locked his cabinets. As he headed for the elevator, he couldn’t figure out what had come over him. Had he lost his mind?
His desire for his lover had blinded him to common sense and decorum, placing his entire career in jeopardy. He’d known it was wrong, but in a moment of weakness, he’d allowed Sammi to talk him into it. It was Mitchell’s own fault, plain and simple.
In less than twenty-four hours, Sammi had come into his life like a tornado of passion and sex, and had blown Mitchell away, along with his good sense and most of the rules he’d lived by.
He felt out of control, wild and beyond reckless. This behavior just wasn’t him. And there was only one person to blame, well, besides himself. Sammi.
If he were a stronger man, he’d put Sammi out of his life, but just the thought of living without him made Mitchell’s stomach hurt as if someone had driven their fist into it.
Oh God, he had it so bad. The question was, what did he intend to do about it?
Chapter Three
Sammi paced and bit his thumbnail. This was bad. Oh God, he’d gotten Mitchell into trouble, maybe even fired. Shit. He hadn’t mean any harm. He’d just been so turned on by Mitchell’s voice over the phone it had him rigid and needing release.
He should have taken a cold shower.
He should have just jerked off.
What was Mitchell going to do when he got home? Fear cramped his belly at what Donovan would have done if Sammi had still been at the penthouse and pulled a stunt like that. Pain might be a game for some, but for Donovan it was an art form.
What would it be like to feel Mitchell’s wrath?
Sammi wrapped his arms around his body and started to shake. He tried to stop, get control, but the waves of fear shook him. This terror was worse than all the times at Donovan’s penthouse. Knees knocking, he struggled to make it to the couch and collapsed.
